No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.

Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.

Conceit in weakest bodies works the strongest.

She's good, being gone.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.

The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see